by Lucy Knott
‘Nothing’s wrong Nanna, I’m fine thank you,’ Louisa said softly, getting up out of her chair to hug her. That always made her feel better.
‘You miss your sisters, no?’ Nanna questioned. Nothing could ever get past a nonna, Louisa mused, better luck next time.
‘Yes, I do. I’m so excited about the fashion show Nanna, but I can’t help thinking about how fabulous the opening of Torta per Tutti is going to be. I know she can be a stubborn pain sometimes but when it comes to cooking, Amanda knows her stuff. I was looking forward to seeing it come to life, you know, just being there for her and being a guinea pig, making sure the menu was perfect. But I know she will have everyone else,’ Louisa confessed, her arms wrapped tight around her nanna who she could have sworn had shrunk a couple more inches since arriving in Italy.
‘I understand cara. I know of this problem. Life is balance. What can we do?’ Nanna said, her voice an airy whisper. She, more than anyone, knew the heartache of years away from loved ones, yet she had always remained so strong and happy with what surrounded her, her sisters always sending cards and parcels.
‘That’s it! Grazie Nanna. Grazie,’ Louisa cried after a few moments passed. She kissed her nanna on the cheek, an idea having sprung to her mind. ‘You take a seat and you teach me,’ she added, guiding Nanna to the kitchen table but grabbing a yellow cushion to make the seat more comfortable. Just then Zia Sofia walked into the kitchen waving a torn piece of paper in the air as if she had read Louisa’s mind. Zia Sofia was the youngest of her three zias and the one always bouncing around after everyone; taking the lead in the kitchen and reminding Louisa fiercefully of Amanda.
‘Aspetta, aspetta,’ she said, before reaching Louisa’s side and pinching her cheeks with her paper-free hand. ‘You need this. We make it now,’ her zia announced, turning on her heel and collecting up pots and pans. Louisa gazed at the browning paper now in her palm and blinked back tears. It was Grandpa’s handwriting and read ‘Torta caprese’.
She looked to Nanna, unable to speak. Nanna’s eyes twinkled, a spark of happiness followed by a gleam of pain. Louisa missed him every day; she couldn’t imagine how Nanna felt.
‘Family recipes, they are the treasure of the life,’ Nanna noted, as Zia Sofia carefully pulled the recipe out of Louisa’s hand, handing her bowls and spoons and shouting instructions in fast Italian. Louisa would do well to remind her that it was Amanda that was the chef of the family and not her, but she had been the one to want to learn, so she did as she was told, following the instructions as best she could, feeling content that her zia had read her mind and agreed that food was always the answer, especially when made with love.
*
Rest had not been on the cards last night, Louisa was too excitable. At 6 a.m. she crept into the kitchen, grabbed her coat from the coat rack, picked up her bag from where she’d left it next to the wicker chair, collected the brown parcel from the kitchen counter and tip-toed in her black ballet pumps out onto the balcony. The soft morning breeze cooled her warm bones.
Louisa walked in silence down the cobbled path, past the blocks of apartments whose shutters were all closed. She almost wanted to tip-toe, scared to make even the smallest of noises and disturb the tranquility of the sleeping village. The street looked like a rainbow, as each window bore a different shade of turquoise, pink and yellow. As she made her way further down the mountain, closer to the village square, lights illuminated bakeries where Louisa could see little old nonnas preparing the doughs for the day. Louisa’s thoughts drifted again to Amanda and how she would soon be doing the same thing in her café back home and it gave her an extra pep in her step. She wanted to stop and give the nonnas a hand, knowing how tiring the process was, after years of watching Amanda beat herself up over loaf after loaf, trying to perfect them and get them exactly like Grandpa’s. But she knew this was what the Italians lived for – waking up to cook with love, to feed the world. She knew the nonnas would be just fine and kept on walking.
Disturbing the silence up the street were the fisherman delivering their catch to the market stalls and restaurants. The salty fragrance of freshly caught squid reminded Louisa of her childhood summers spent fishing with her grandpa. The girls had promised they would be back to fish in the summer; Louisa hoped that with both her sisters being so busy that they would somehow still be able to stick to this promise. She would try and understand if not.
Arriving at her first destination, she snuck in to the back of the bakery and was immediately greeted by Luca’s mamma. ‘Buongiorno cara,’ she said, hugging Louisa and then holding her back at arm’s length, her hands still on Louisa’s shoulders. Louisa was accustomed to this behavior. Luca’s mamma was assessing her up and down, finally resting on Louisa’s eyes. It was the kind of evaluation she received daily from her nanna and zias, usually to check that she had eaten enough and that there was happiness behind her eyes. But before the interrogation began, Luca appeared, and Louisa’s stomach turned into a swarm of butterflies.
‘Ciao bella,’ he said, his eyebrows raised and surprise in his tone. Then he walked over to her and kissed her sweetly on each cheek.
‘Buongiorno,’ Louisa replied, merrily. She then turned to Luca’s mamma, hoping to be excused so she could go and cuddle Luca before she needed to head off.
‘Come, we have coffee,’ Luca said, reaching around Louisa’s waist and guiding her out of the kitchen.
He pulled down two chairs from a small table at the front of the café and gestured for Louisa to sit while he went around the counter and brought the coffee machine to life. Louisa contemplated the street through the gold lettering on the giant window. Only the food vendors were bustling about in their stalls and cafés, getting ready for the morning rush. The other shops remained vacant, void of light and life. Orzoro sure was beautiful at sunrise.
With a whistle and a gurgle, the robust smell of Italy’s finest espresso wafted her way, along with a tall, dark and equally robust Italian man. Louisa took him in once more, smiling when he placed her tiny coffee in front of her.
‘Everything is okay?’ Luca asked, as he sat down opposite her.
Louisa took a sip of the strong coffee and looked Luca straight in his ocean-blue eyes. These eyes had a way of drawing out her fears since the days she had first gazed into them, but today she was full of positivity and exuberant energy, her fears having melted away along with the bowl of butter and chocolate she had mixed together last night.
‘Can I get some of your cinnamon biscuits to add to my box, please?’ she said enthusiastically. For the first time since they sat down Luca took his eyes off hers and looked to the box.
‘What it is?’ Luca asked, touching the box and toying with the lid, sniffing the air as he did so. Louisa chuckled.
‘My family’s secret torta caprese, for Amanda,’ she answered, allowing him to lift the lid and peak inside. Luca’s eyes lit up. He leaned forward to get a better look, eyeing up the cake in the same fashion Louisa had witnessed Amanda doing when they had first stepped into Alfonso’s bakery last year and Luca had given them a box of cakes. It was like he was trying to figure out its secrets just by looking at it. ‘I know I can’t make it to the café opening, but I can still be part of it in some way. Amanda is probably busy and stressing about it all right now, so I think this will make her smile and remember what it’s all about,’ Louisa added, placing the lid carefully back on the box, making sure it was snug against the cake so it wouldn’t break in transit. She would get a bigger box to protect it further once she got to the post office and filled it with more goodies from Luca.
‘You can tell me the recipe, no?’ Luca asked, wiggling his eyebrows, a sweet smile turning up at the corner of his lips as he picked up Louisa’s hand and planted a kiss on her palm.
‘Not a chance,’ Louisa said playfully, though she meant it and he knew this too. Family recipes were sacred in Italy; she couldn’t go giving them away no matter how handsome Luca’s smile was or how mesmerizing his eye
s were.
‘Eh, what can I do?’ he said with a laugh. Louisa jumped up, moving to his side of the table to hug him. When Luca wrapped his strong arms around her, she didn’t want to be anywhere else. He already smelt like pastries and vanilla; she wanted to stay in his embrace all day, but she had work to do. She dropped a kiss on his soft locks and stood up, checking her watch to see if the town’s only post office would be open yet.
Ten minutes later, Louisa walked out of Alfonso’s with a flush in her cheeks and a much heavier parcel. Walking towards Orzoro’s town centre, she thought about Luca and his dream of travelling that he had shared with her during a special beach date over the holidays and hoped that one day they could maybe deliver a similar parcel in person, together, to Amanda’s café. The thought made her grin as she headed to the post office. With the smell of rum and chocolate occasionally wafting up from the box, she couldn’t wait to get to work today, feeling inspired by her family and the love in her heart.
Chapter 7
Garlic Bruschetta
Ingredients:
Whip up Grandpa’s bread mixture
Garlic
Parsley
Butter
Olive oil
Plum tomatoes
What to do:
Slice bread and lightly toast.
Blend butter (a fork will do to squash, the mix with spoon) with diced garlic and parsley. Add a dash of salt and pepper.
Spread butter onto bread and layer with chunky pieces of garlic and baby plum tomatoes.
Amanda was doing her best to drown out the hammering and the clatter that was coming from the kitchen by squinting really hard at her clipboard to try and absorb the words that were staring back at her. Sabrina had been the one to suggest she get a clipboard. If Amanda could focus on the words, she wouldn’t even notice the noise. It was 7.30 a.m. and Manchester was just beginning to wake, a faint orange glow appearing above the tree tops and houses across the road. Liam had fixed the electrical work a few days ago but there was a problem with the pipes that he was currently attempting to fix, being the handy man that he was. Amanda was ninety-nine per cent sure the initial plumber had made it worse than it was before he arrived. She was getting antsy not being able to cook, but thankfully Liam had proved to be a knight in shining armour with the electricals and she prayed he could save the day again.
‘Kate, how’s everything looking with the register?’ Amanda asked her recent recruit. Kate was Louisa’s age, twenty-four, polite and quiet. She had been doing a great job tailing Amanda and doing what was asked of her over the past few days. Amanda wasn’t quite sure her head would still be screwed on if it wasn’t for Kate. So far, she had organized Amanda’s scraps of paper that held shopping lists and menu ideas and replaced them with colour coordinated notebooks and pens for each such occasion. She had cleaned a small area at the back of the café and set up a table and chairs so Amanda could actually sit down and go through the business plans and have a place to conduct interviews and speak with her team. She had plugged up the register and saw to it that Amanda had Wi-Fi and a landline installed. Amanda was impressed by this woman’s efficiency. It rivalled that of Sabrina’s, yet Amanda still wished her sister were here.
‘It’s all linked up to the Wi-Fi, as is the card machine and your phone. It should be ready to go, boss,’ Kate replied, with a confidence that made Amanda look up from her ‘to-do’ list (which had been Kate’s doing too). She saw Kate smiling in her direction and couldn’t help smiling back. Kate was coming out of her shell and starting to relax in Amanda’s craziness.
‘Thank you. I appreciate that. Once the rest of the team arrive within the next hour, we’ll go through kitchen protocol and get the dining area set up, I should think,’ Amanda said, eyeing up the plastic-covered furniture and dusty floorboards. Better yet, she might make a start on it before the others arrived; she didn’t want to put them off by having them cleaning on their first day, though she had mentioned this in the interviews. With the café being brand new, she had expressed her need for staff to aid in the final preparations and seating plan. No one had pulled a face, so she had taken that as a good sign.
Suddenly a loud crash came from the kitchen causing Amanda’s clipboard to fall to the floor, her hands flying up to her chest to keep her heart in its cage. She took a few steps towards the double doors when there came a loud banging on the front door. She had the blinds down so no one could see inside, and she could not see out. With her heart still beating painfully, she waved Kate in the direction of the kitchen. Kate nodded in understanding, and Amanda made for the front door.
She peeked through the blinds and was pleasantly surprised to see that it was in fact her two new hires; that would teach her to be a pessimist she thought. Then Amanda noticed a third woman that she didn’t recognize. She was hesitant to open the door, her fingers hovering over the lock, but she couldn’t exactly leave her new staff standing in the cold – what kind of impression would that give them of their new boss? She forced a smile with pursed lips, welcoming the staff inside, but wasn’t quick enough to hold off the other woman.
Immediately the lady started snapping photos on her phone, before turning to Amanda and shoving the phone in her face. The new trainees looked at this interaction with mouths wide opens, their brows low in confusion. The boy was bouncing at his knees unsure whether he should step forward and interfere, yet ready to do so if Amanda gave him the go-ahead.
Amanda waved him off, with a fake closed-mouth smile and pointed for them to go and sit at the sole table in the dining area. Then she turned to the lady to speak, but the lady beat her to it.
‘So, this is what San Francisco Beat are retiring for? Might I ask your name? The lucky lady who snapped up one of the hottest lead singers in the world right now.’ The lady was a picture of confidence and casual, with one arm crossed over her black blazer and untucked blouse, and the other arm holding her recording device aloft. As she spoke her wrist waved from side to side, in an air of arrogance Amanda was not a fan of.
‘Excuse me, but you cannot be on this premises, we are not open yet,’ Amanda said as politely as she could, opening the door a little wider now. But the lady was eyeing up the room, her recording device still in the air. A loud grunt came from the kitchen followed by a slur of swear words and Kate shouting, ‘It’s okay!’. Amanda shook her head; she didn’t have time for this. ‘I asked you to leave, please,’ she said, slightly louder, her voice wobbling. The lady sauntered over to Amanda, ignoring the open door and concentrating on Amanda’s face. Amanda could feel the judgement in the lady’s glare.
‘Tell me, what’ve you got that all those models and actresses don’t? Me and the rest of the world deserve to know, so we can bag our own rock star. It’s only fair us ladies help each other out,’ the lady said with a wiggle of her eyebrows and an attempt at a friendly laugh that only sounded cold and creepy to Amanda’s ears.
Amanda remained silent. She wanted to shove the lady out of the door, but thought better of it, not wanting to be sued for harming a so-called ‘journalist’. ‘Go on, I know there’s a voice in there somewhere. We know Dan likes them feisty; he’s always being snapped with the troubled starlets and harlots after all.’
Amanda felt as though David Beckham had just taken a penalty and it had hit her square in the stomach knocking the wind out of her. She steadied herself with one hand holding the door frame and the other on her hip. Why was she letting this lady get to her? She knew Dan better than anyone. He had been with her six weeks ago. Life had been pretty magical since Christmas. Yes, Dan had dated his fair share of women, but this lady knew nothing and was simply stirring the pot – that didn’t stop Amanda’s lungs grasping for air though. But she would not let this show; she kept her mouth closed, her eyes still looking out of the door and into the grey Manchester morning. ‘Garlic, olive oil, salt and pepper. Garlic, olive oil, salt and pepper.’ She tried to conjure up the smell in her mind to take the edge off the lady’s words.
She turned to look at the woman and edged closer to her, not giving her any alternative other than to take a step back. A few more steps forward from Amanda, and the woman and her conceited smirk were out the door. Amanda snapped it shut as quick as she could and exhaled a shaky breath.
‘Everything okay, boss?’ Kate asked, forcing Amanda to snap out of her wayward thoughts and focus on today’s agenda; getting the café up and running, and clean.
‘I think I should be the one asking you that question,’ Amanda said, brushing a hand through the loose strands of hair that had escaped from her messy bun and shrugging off the encounter with the rude journalist. ‘So?’ She raised her eyebrows at Kate as they started walking towards the waiting staff.